


A Tender Touch

by PhantomWarrior99



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24757900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWarrior99/pseuds/PhantomWarrior99
Summary: Sometimes solace is the arms of another soldier.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	A Tender Touch

The mattress creaks in protest beneath the abrupt change in position and her eyes snap open.

A soldier's instinct. A survivor's terror.

The adrenaline sears through her veins and for a moment, she tenses. For a moment she remains motionless beneath the weighted constriction of the comforter until the mattress groans again. Until there's a faint light cast across her frame, its source somewhere beyond her peripheral. And she listens - listens to the shallow breaths. The unsteady, wavering inhalations that throw her exhausted mind into a whirlwind - and then she remembers.

_Garrus._

Her head turns towards the light, exhausted orbs adjusting to the sudden light cast across the form beside her. He's hunched over on the edge of the mattress, feet planted firmly on the floor. In the dim glow of artificial yellow, Shepard can make out the sharp ridges of the Turian's spine, the marred scales that serve as reminders, remnants of battles long since fought. Soft emerald lingers for a moment before she lifts herself out from beneath the blankets.

It startles him but he remains silent. It startles him but he allows the human Spectre to shift behind him. He can feel the dip of the mattress on either side of his hips, the slight nudge from her knees as she sits back on her heels. He can feel her arms lock around his torso as her head settles against the back of his shoulder. And he can breathe - letting go of the air he'd trapped in his lungs, relief flooding his rigid frame.

She doesn't ask and he doesn't tell. It's happened so often, they're almost stunned when they make it through a night, for so often, the horrors and hells of their pasts haunt their dreams. They've reached an unspoken agreement. A silent vow to leave the torments of their souls beyond the veil of consciousness. 

Last night, it was Shepard who clung for dear life to the Turian's frame. Last night it was Shepard whose head sagged against his shoulder as his fingers threaded through her hair. Last night it was Shepard who was content to let him fight the frigid demons of her dreams with his warmth as she drifted off peacefully in his arms. Tonight, it's Garrus; the trembling Turian clinging to the weight of Shepard's touch to anchor him. Tonight it's Garrus who fights like hell to ward off the images at the forefront of him mind, the nightmares that urge him closer and closer to the edge of collapse.

And then she holds him.

And he's okay. His frame eases, fatigue gripping hold over his once rigid muscles as he closes his eyes and lets her hold him.

"Garrus," she whispers softly and he knows.

He straightens slightly as she slides back under the blankets. His composure falters and he collapses beside her, head heavy as it lands on her shoulder.

Her hand gently settles on his head, fingers ghosting over the elegant arches along his skull. They trace over the soft edges, trailing to the curved points at the end of each scaled arch, just as she's done so many times before.

At first, it's soft and hardly detectable above the defeaning silence of the room. As it grows, Shepard can feel the tension draining from his frame. He insists it's not what it sounds like, that Turians don't _purr,_ but the soft rumble in his throat always brings a smile to the Spectre's lips.

She holds him for what seems like an eternity before his breathing evens out and the purr ebbs into silence. He's sound asleep as she presses a soft kiss to his forehead. He's sound asleep when she pulls the blankets up to his shoulders and tucks him in. He's sound asleep when she rests her cheek against the top of his head and allows her eyes to drift shut, holding the Turian close against her.

_There is no Shepard without Vakarian._

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